The dawn rises over the silent fields,

and in their midst is a lonely farmhouse.

Abandoned each morning when I arrive,

and sits abandoned when darkness is nigh.

I reach the slot and push the paper in.

I turn and, behold! A shadow flies past.

Silent as a wraith with a ghost’s pale face,

tawny winged, it is the silent hunter;

the hunter of the scurrying below.

I watched its beautiful and silent glide,

as the dawn’s first rays marked eternity.

It faded in and out; a living dream.

All dreams fade and this one quickly followed.

Vanished into twilight; never seen again.

2013 © Christopher Martin
2013 © Christopher Martin

Disclaimer: I do not own the imagery used in this blog post and have no artistic claim to it.


One thought on “The Owl and The Farmhouse

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s